


Après-ski

by mainland



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:53:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4258911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainland/pseuds/mainland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris is an Olympic skier; Chanyeol's just on vacation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Après-ski

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ.

“Oh fu—”  
  
The rest of his sentence is neatly muffled by a cold mouthful of snow and Baekhyun’s shouts of laughter. Chanyeol frowns into the snow, eyes clenched shut, and listens to the soft crunching sweeps of his friends draw near. He thinks about just lying there dramatically until they reach him, but he’s starting to lose feeling in his forehead and the snow in his mouth is half slush. Plus his legs are still tangled the way that tripped him in the first place, which means his right leg is twisted uncomfortably inward below the knee.  
  
Before he can push himself up, someone banks with a loud _whoosh_ , and the spray hits Chanyeol right in the back of the head.  
  
He sits up, and hisses when the snow slides down his nape and into his coat. Chanyeol growls but it’s exaggeratedly loud and drawn out. He’d be madder if he hadn’t given up and stopped caring hours ago, somewhere between the fourth time he’d had to empty his boots, and the second time he’d dug snow out of his pants.  
  
“Maybe we should go back to Mega Green.” Baekhyun leans forward on his poles. “Because you’re _mega green_.”  
  
“Maybe you should remember we’re only here for a week. The snow can’t protect you forever,” Chanyeol warns. “Actually, it can’t protect you in our hostel room.” The tops of his cheeks and tip of his nose are burning; the air is brisk and the wind quick, and it doesn’t help that he keeps intimately introducing his face to snow drifts. His nose is starting to peel.  
  
“I’m switching bunks with Jongin,” Baekhyun says immediately. “Kyungsoo, can you let Jongin know—”  
  
“Not a chance,” Kyungsoo says, staring at Chanyeol on the ground. “Why are you so bad at this anyway?”  
  
“Try and I’ll drag you out and bury you in the snow in your sleep.” Jongin skids to a stop right behind Baekhyun and grins at Chanyeol. Chanyeol half-heartedly gives him the finger; Jongin catches his wrist below the glove. “Hyung, give me a hand,” he says to Kyungsoo, and together they haul him up.  
  
“Jongdae picked this up faster than you.” Kyungsoo is still staring.  
  
“Fuck you!” Jongdae’s voice floats down to them from higher up the trail.  
  
“It’s because he’s short,” Chanyeol says. “It’s because you’re all short.”  
  
“You only have a couple inches on me.” Jongin shoves him, and then quickly grabs his arm again when Chanyeol wobbles dangerously. “And Sehun.”  
  
"Sehun skis competitively," Kyungsoo points out.  
  
“Sehun's freakishly long torso makes his center of gravity lower,” Chanyeol retorts. "Whereas I have a lot of leg. Like a supermodel."  
  
“If you want we can cut those legs off beneath the knee,” Baekhyun says sweetly. “Maybe then we can race without you falling on your face two steps from the start line!”  
  
“Speaking of which,” Sehun calls, looping a graceful arc around the group. “Looks like I’m winning again.”  
  
Jongin immediately pushes off after him without a word. Chanyeol’s left with only Kyungsoo’s support, and his skis keep threatening to take him down the mountain, because they’re midway on the slope and gravity fucking exists. Baekhyun makes a mock face of concern.  
  
“Hey Kyungsoo, let go,” Chanyeol says.  
  
“Are you sure.” Kyungsoo clutches his arm tighter.  
  
“Yeah, I’ve totally got it,” Chanyeol says airily. “Get a few steps back too, I need some space to work out my ski— _TAKE THAT BYUN BAEKHYUN_.” The second Kyungsoo scoots away Chanyeol leverages the momentum of his fall and launches himself at Baekhyun with a roar. Baekhyun screeches, and then they’re bowling down the trail with their skis locked. Chanyeol is getting snow up his nose with every roll, and he can barely see through the powder they kick up, but he still has one hand on Baekhyun’s hat and is doing his best to shove Baekhyun’s face into the snow every chance he gets.  
  
“You’re ruining the trail,” Kyungsoo shouts after them, and Chanyeol’s a bit sorry because it’s true, the snow they’re cutting through is going to be a wreck to ski on.  
  
Then Baekhyun tries to stab him with a pole, and Chanyeol lunges up, all contrition forgotten. He ignores the frozen ground banging against his knees, braces his arms, and takes Baekhyun by the waist. He can apologize to Kyungsoo later, Chanyeol thinks, and digs one ski deep into the ground, using the force of his sudden halt to throw Baekhyun—literally—as far down the mountain as he physically can.  
  
It’s not actually that far, but they covered a good stretch of the trail in their tussle so the foot of the mountain is only several metres down.  
  
Baekhyun screams the whole way. Chanyeol laughs so hard he almost throws up.  
  
He’s still laughing when Jongdae zooms past. “Oh my god,” Jongdae shouts. “Head-on collision at Baekhyun-o’clock!”  
  
Chanyeol wipes his tears and looks. Shit. Baekhyun’s still on the ground, but so is some other guy.  
  
Kyungsoo stops long enough on his way down to pick Chanyeol up, and they make their way to where Sehun and Jongin and a few strangers are already gathering.  
  
Both Baekhyun and his victim are sitting up when they reach the crash site. The stranger’s back is to Chanyeol, but he can see Baekhyun’s face, upturned and vaguely stunned. The guy is huge: even sitting, Baekhyun’s head is craned back.  
  
“Good job hyung,” Jongin greets.  
  
“That was awesome,” adds Sehun.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun says to the stranger, and Chanyeol blinks because his voice is breathy, and not in a ‘I just got the wind knocked out of me’ way.  
  
“It’s... fine.” The stranger is patting himself down. “Nothing’s broken.”  
  
“I’m sorry—” Chanyeol starts to say, but someone shouts over him. A tall black-haired boy pushes through and drops to his knees, ripping off his gloves. Two other guys have also pulled up, hovering by the side with looks of concern.  
  
“Duizhang, duizhang, are you okay,” the boy mutters, squeezing along his friend’s calf. Chanyeol thinks it’s a bit of an overreaction, but a part of him is genuinely worried, so he carefully shuffles forward.  
  
“Hey, are you okay?” He tries again. “I’m really sorry, it’s all my fault.”  
  
The stranger looks up at him, and the first thing that Chanyeol thinks is ‘ _hot_ ’. Then he mentally slaps himself, and wishes he could slap Baekhyun too, for rubbing off on him. The stranger is aggressively good-looking, with a commanding nose and blond hair peeking out from under his blue woolen hat and ski goggles.  
  
“It really is all his fault,” Baekhyun helpfully puts in. “He threw me down the mountain.”  
  
“For fun,” Chanyeol clarifies quickly.  
  
The black-haired boy turns and stares at him. It’s actually kind of unpleasant because his whole face looks like a death threat.  
  
The stranger furrows his brow and suddenly asks, not unkindly, “Were you crying?”  
  
“What?” Chanyeol says, but at once he notices how tight his cheeks feel where the tears of laughter had froze. And his eyes aren’t damp anymore, but he’s blinking rapidly, because the wind makes them feel raw. “Oh, no, I was laughing,” he says cheerily. He pushes his cheeks up with the tips of his nylon gloves, and demonstrates with a wide, fixed smile.  
  
Tinkling laughter bursts from the standing pair of strangers. Chanyeol thinks it might have been the one with the bright eyes, whose face is half-buried in his friend’s shoulder. To his right, Sehun fumbles his pole, letting out a small ‘ah’ sound. The atmosphere is getting more awkward by the second; the stranger’s frown has deepened, and Chanyeol’s not sure what his own expression looks like but he knows he’s flushing. He slowly lowers his hands and clears his throat. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”  
  
The black-haired boy helps the stranger up, and Chanyeol would’ve stepped back if his skis allowed him more lower body movement, because he’s never met anyone taller than him. He’s treated to a hard stare and a tiny nod before the stranger dutifully offers Baekhyun a hand, and he’s really starting to wonder if he somehow grievously offended the guy without realizing.  
  
Baekhyun scrambles to his feet, stumbling enough that the stranger needs to catch him with both hands. “I’m Baekhyun,” he says brightly.  
  
“Kris,” the stranger replies slowly.  
  
“Duizhang, let’s go,” the black-haired boy whines. He’s acknowledged with a tilt of the head, and they depart with a perfunctory wave, flanked by the other pair within seconds.  
  
Jongin barely waits until they’ve gone ten feet before he bats his eyelashes, and chirps, “ _I’m Baekhyun_.”  
  
“I’m not even ashamed, you disrespectful brat,” says Baekhyun. “He was that good-looking.”  
  
“I’m ashamed,” says Jongdae. “You are an oil spill in human form.”  
  
“Okay break it up.” Kyungsoo claps. “Let’s change and get dinner.”  
  
“Already?” Chanyeol says, but Kyungsoo is right. Sometime during all the commotion the sky has deepened to a dull lavender, the horizon above the treeline purpling with dusk. Kyungsoo hands him the ski poles he hadn’t realized he’d lost, and Chanyeol maneuvers to fall in between Baekhyun and Jongdae, behind Kyungsoo and Jongin. Sehun, swift as always, is several paces ahead.  
  
“I’m going to spare Kyungsoo the pleasure of my company tonight,” Baekhyun says.  
  
“That sounds gross!” Kyungsoo declares without looking around.  
  
“—because I’m pretty sure you lost all rights to revenge when you threw me off a mountain. For the rest of your life.”  
  
Chanyeol pretends to groan but it comes out as a snigger instead. As much as it sucks he has a strong sense of fair play, and he has to admit this is fair. Well. “For the next two days,” he promises.  
  
“Are you planning on dying in the next two days? For the rest of the week.” Baekhyun elbows him. “You should thank Kris’s parents for making him so sexy, otherwise it’d be forever.”  
  
“Gag,” says Jongdae.  
  
“So I did you a favour,” Chanyeol says.  
  
“You threw me off a _mountain_ ,” Baekhyun enunciates.  
  
“So I did you a favour,” Chanyeol repeats with a grin.  
  
“ _And into a person_ ,” Baekhyun continues. “No amount of facial symmetry will cancel that out, not even if that facial symmetry is at the top of a very, very tall glass of water.”  
  
“I wish you’d done _us_ a favour,” Jongdae says to Chanyeol, “and thrown a little harder.”  
  
  
  
  
They end up eating at Song Chun, the Korean restaurant in the Tower Condominium. They’re staying at the Yongpyong hostel across the street, but the hostel only has a public kitchen and no food facilities, and Kyungsoo had purposely not packed any cooking implements.  
  
“Like hell I’m cooking on vacation,” he’d snapped when Jongin tried sneaking a pot into his suitcase.  
  
It’s overpriced of course, but they had brought instant ramyun for breakfasts (which will probably end up as lunches because only Kyungsoo gets up before ten), and after a hard day on the trails it’s nice to indulge. Chanyeol studies the menu, chewing his lip. They’d all showered and hung up their coats and gloves to dry before going for dinner, and his chilled body is revelling in the comfort of old sweats and an oversized hoodie. He hums happily, his muscles still aching with the satisfying sour burn of exertion.  
  
“What do you want,” Baekhyun leans on his shoulder. Baekhyun’s face is bare and his hair is still slightly damp, and across the table Chanyeol can see Kyungsoo in Jongin’s borrowed sweatshirt, deliberating over the menu options.  
  
“Happiness,” Chanyeol sighs. “Laughter, friends, pork cutlet.”  
  
“Love,” Baekhyun adds in the same sing-song voice. “I’m getting soondubu jjigae. Jongdae too.”  
  
“What do you think Sehun wants,” Chanyeol thumbs through the menu pages. “What has he not eaten recently?” The restaurant is fairly busy and they are all famished, so Chanyeol’s taking the liberty of ordering for his absent friends.  
  
“Is he on an alternating streak?” Baekhyun purses his lips. “Or is he doing that every-meal-the-same thing again.”  
  
“Ddukbokki.” Jongdae slides into his seat. “He’s doing the same thing again.”  
  
“I’m getting you soondubu jjigae,” Baekhyun tells him, and Jongdae nods in approval.  
  
The waitress comes by and collects their orders, and they’re left jiggling their knees and playing with their water glasses as they wait. Jongin takes Kyungsoo’s arm and starts rolling up the too-long sleeve.  
  
“Sehun’s taking an awfully long time in the bathroom,” Kyungsoo frowns.  
  
“Maybe he fell in,” Jongin quips. Chanyeol straightens up in his seat and peers around. It takes him five seconds to locate their youngest, leaning against the wall next to the decorative fish tank and having an intimate conversation with a boy whose caramel hair gleams in the dim lighting.  
  
“Are we supposed to intervene,” Jongdae says, following his line of sight. “As his hyungs, I mean.”  
  
“I’ll let you know.” Chanyeol gets up and weaves his way between tables to where the two stand, heads close together. He slows down when he gets close, in case he overhears anything he isn’t supposed to.  
  
“Hyung,” Sehun nods.  
  
“I thought you didn’t say hyung,” his partner says playfully, and turns around. It’s the boy with the bright eyes from earlier, the one who’d laughed at him. Close-up, he looks older than expected, and lovelier too.  
  
“Oh hey,” Chanyeol greets with a friendly smile. “You again.”  
  
The boy’s bright eyes crinkle, and he nods to someone behind Chanyeol. “Hey.”  
  
Chanyeol turns and meets a familiar stare. He steps to the side and puts his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “Kris, right? Sorry again.” He flashes a smile, even though he’s feeling a bit wary.  
  
The corner of Kris’s mouth turns up. He’s showered too, Chanyeol can tell from the sudden clean smell of shampoo, but his hair has been blow-dried and even a little styled. “Your friend weighs like 50 kilo. No harm done.”  
  
“He’s more lethal when he’s not a bowling ball,” Chanyeol says.  
  
“Glad I got the lesser evil,” Kris replies. “Should I watch out for human projectiles tomorrow, too?”  
  
His tone is flat, but Chanyeol’s always been good at reading people, and he can tell Kris is amused. He relaxes. “That was a one time show,” he says. “You’re lucky.”  
  
“Kris,” the bright-eyed boy behind them interrupts. “Didn’t you come here for something?” He’s biting his lip, eyes dancing.  
  
“Yeah.” Kris looks away from Chanyeol, glancing briefly at Sehun before focusing on his friend. “Are you done? Everyone’s waiting to order.”  
  
“Sorry,” his friend says breezily, and touches Sehun’s wrist. “I’ll see you.”  
  
“See you,” Sehun echoes. Chanyeol watches them go. They’re sitting across the room, right where Chanyeol can see them from his seat, if he looks up.  
  
He turns back to Sehun and whistles lowly. “What was that, maknae?”  
  
“I dunno,” Sehun starts heading back. “Looked like he was flirting with you to me.”  
  
“That,” Chanyeol says, following him, “was not the answer hyung wanted.”  
  
The waitress has just finished serving their table when they get back. Baekhyun’s chopsticks are halfway to Chanyeol’s dish before Chanyeol jumps in and slaps his hand away.  
  
“Sehun-ah, what took you so long,” Jongin demands between mouthfuls of chicken.  
  
“Chanyeol-hyung was talking to Kris,” Sehun says easily.  
  
“What,” Baekhyun hits Chanyeol, probably harder than warranted in revenge for the hand-slap. “The Kris from earlier?”  
  
“Yeah, we crossed paths.” Chanyeol squints at Sehun. “He went to get his doe-eyed friend, the one you were sharing air with, Sehun.”  
  
Surprisingly, Sehun goes a bit pink. “I just met him in the bathroom,” he mumbles, stabbing his ddukbokki. “We were talking about the trails.”  
  
“Wait,” Jongin pauses with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “You mean the one with light hair, really pretty?” At Sehun’s nod, he narrows his eyes and exhales through his teeth. “Huh. Good job.”  
  
Chanyeol rests his chin in his palm and looks out as Kyungsoo joins in on the ribbing. Kris’s table is easier to see than he expected, with Kris himself sitting in profile view. He’s laughing and shaking his head at something one of the others said, and his sleeves are pushed halfway up his forearms. He’s actually not as handsome when he’s smiling with his teeth showing. It’s oddly endearing. Chanyeol’s busy trying to make out what Kris is eating when something catches his ear. “Wait, say that again.”  
  
“I told Lu Han we would ski with him and his friends tomorrow.”  
  
"Oh sweet." Chanyeol cuts off a piece of his cutlet and pops it in his mouth. "When?"  
  
"Eight-thirty," says Sehun.  
  
"Fuck you." Jongin throws a piece of lettuce at him.  
  
  
  
  
It takes a lot of teamwork and manpower (figuring out who would take which of Jongin's limbs, lugging his dead weight to the bathroom), but the six of them manage to hustle out of the hostel by quarter to nine. Chanyeol waits by the doors, collecting everyone's room cards as they exit and tucking them in his wallet. "Left, left," he shouts after Sehun, and bows contritely when another group in the lobby glances over. "Sorry for disturbing you."  
  
Kris is the only one there when they reach Silver lift, standing outside in the same dark blue coat and ski pants as yesterday. Sehun looks around, like Lu Han could be hiding somewhere in the flat snow-covered ground, and pushes his bottom lip out a little.  
  
"Sorry we're late," Chanyeol calls as soon as he's within hearing distance. "We usually don't get up so early."  
  
"It's fine," Kris says. "My friends went up with the first lifts, but they'll be down soon." His expression is stiff, but Chanyeol can't detect any real annoyance from his loose body posture and relaxed jaw.  
  
"I’m shocked we weren’t at least an hour late," Chanyeol confides, lowering his voice to a mock-whisper. "Every morning I wonder if my friends aren't secretly undead."  
  
"Are you saying I'm lucky again?" Kris smiles crookedly. "Seems like I have very meager blessings around you."  
  
Chanyeol laughs, pleased, and reaches to squeeze the pom-pom on Kris's hat, a marled cream one today. "Nice hat. Come on, I'll introduce you."  
  
Kris shakes everyone's hand, nodding politely, though he spares a smile when Baekhyun beams at him. He's just let go of Kyungsoo's hand when Lu Han glides up, cheeks pink and hair tousled.  
  
"Good morning sleepyheads," he teases, and gives Sehun a little wave.  
  
"How are you down already?" Jongdae blinks. "Were you just on Silver Paradise?"  
  
"Rainbow," Lu Han corrects, shaking his head. "I don't think I've formally introduced myself, my name is Lu Han."  
  
"It's nice to meet you," Chanyeol says automatically. "Also what the heck, Rainbow Paradise is like a billion metres long."  
  
"5600," says Kris. "Lu Han is very fast."  
  
“I’m Baek—oh, I guess we might as well wait.” Baekhyun points behind Lu Han, where two skiers are coming at them at a rapid speed.  
  
The first one to stop is the black-haired boy, who pulls his goggles off his face and shakes his hair out. He looks around at all of them and unexpectedly ducks his head, as though shy.  
  
His friend is only seconds behind. “I’m Yixing,” he offers, dimpling at them under a swoop of chestnut hair.  
  
“My name is Huang Zitao,” the black-haired boy speaks like he has a mouth full of cotton, but he’s carefully courteous. “It’s nice to meet you.”  
  
“Park Chanyeol,” Chanyeol waves, and this prompts the rest of his friends to re-introduce themselves.  
  
“Okay let’s go.” Kris looks over at the lift, where a few others are starting to queue up. “Groups of four.”  
  
Chanyeol stifles a laugh because Kris sounds like a teacher on an elementary school field trip, and Kris looks at him, lips quirking, because Chanyeol is already herding up his own friends, one hand on Baekhyun’s shoulder and the other on Kyungsoo’s.  
  
They end up loading Jongin, Yixing, Lu Han, and Sehun into the first quad, and Baekhyun, Zitao, Jongdae, and Kyungsoo into the second. There’s no one left behind them, so Kris and Chanyeol toe up to the marked line for the next quad alone. Kris waits until Chanyeol is comfortably seated before pulling down the safety bar.  
  
“Sometimes I feel like a babysitter, shuffling shorties from one place to another,” Chanyeol comments, watching Baekhyun’s tiny head bob animatedly about in the quad in front.  
  
“I know exactly what you mean,” Kris says with feeling. “No one ever believes Lu Han is older than me.”  
  
“Lu Han is older than you?” Chanyeol stares.  
  
Kris stares back.  
  
Chanyeol’s lips twitch, and he breaks away first. “Even when Joonmyun-hyung and Minseok-hyung are around—ah, they're oldest in our group—I usually end up dragging the others everywhere. Both of them are on vacation with their families this week so now it’s a full-time job.”  
  
"Gotta take responsibility." Kris nods sagely.  
  
They lapse into silence, but it’s thankfully comfortable. Chanyeol tips his head back and closes his eyes, letting the high breeze tickle his bare face. The sky has a bit of blue in it today, and the sunlight feels warm for once.  
  
“Are you in school?”  
  
“Yup,” Chanyeol answers without opening his eyes. "Starting my third year at Hongdae next month. We’re all at the same school, but Sehun—he's going into his first year—will only be part-time because he spends a lot of time training. Competitive ski, he’s really good. What about you?”  
  
The conversation flows smoother than Chanyeol would have expected, but he's quickly learning to discard the assumptions he'd made when he first met the stony-faced stranger on the ground. He learns that Kris is two years older but never finished his degree, that he speaks four languages because his family used to move around a lot, that he and his friends have been here for a week already but aren't staying in Yongpyong, and that Kris has been skiing for most of his life.  
  
"You must be as good as Lu Han," Chanyeol says.  
  
"I'm better," Kris jokes. "We've all been skiing together for a long time."  
  
"We got here Monday, so this is only my third day." Chanyeol kicks his feet, feeling his skis dangle from his boots. "I haven't gone down Rainbow Paradise before, hopefully I don't embarrass myself too badly."  
  
"It's a bit late to worry about making a good impression," says Kris. He readies his poles in one hand and pushes up their safety bar. Their lift is just entering the station, and Chanyeol wiggles forward, ready to disembark. "The first time we met you told us you cliff people for fun."  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol’s right knee gives out over a glassy patch about a minute down the run, right before the big dip, and he lands on his ass. On either side skiers swerve to avoid collision and he hunches over, trying to make himself as small of an obstacle as possible until the pack passes.  
  
“You okay?” Baekhyun skids to a stop. He’s smiling, but Chanyeol can also detect the beginnings of distracted impatience in his wandering gaze.  
  
“You’re just more aerodynamic,” replies Chanyeol, frowning and pretending like Baekhyun had insulted him rather than inquired after his well-being. “There’s less surface area slowing you down.”  
  
Baekhyun laughs for real. “Funny that you’re the one going flying every ten minutes then.”  
  
Chanyeol gets up and brushes snow from the seat of his pants. “You guys should go ahead, I’ll catch up.” Sehun and Lu Han had raced off the moment they landed, with Jongin—not to be outdone—hot on their heels and Yixing placidly bringing up the rear. Jongdae and Kyungsoo are long gone too, so it’s only Baekhyun and Kris keeping him company.  
  
Well, Zitao is there, but only because he’s apparently attached to Kris by an invisible umbilical cord. Chanyeol doesn’t count him.  
  
“Zitao, you and Baekhyun go ahead. I’ll stay with Chanyeol,” Kris says. Zitao opens his mouth, but Kris cuts him off sharply. “You’re not getting any practice in.”  
  
“I’ll stay with him, I’m his best friend,” Baekhyun says staunchly.  
  
Kris smiles at him, and it’s the same indulgently fond expression he’s already started adopting whenever he speaks to Baekhyun. “I’m bigger than Chanyeol, it's better if I do. The trail’s pretty long and I can help him if he falls again.”  
  
“Well, then,” Baekhyun purses his lips, relenting. “In case you’re a serial killer, remember that I have your friend too,” he taps a startled Zitao on the chest with the end of his ski pole, “and I know hapkido.”  
  
“You don’t think I'd cover all my bases?” Kris lifts his eyebrows. “Zitao does wushu.”  
  
“I knew you were too charismatic to not be bloodthirsty.” Baekhyun sighs. “I’m leaving you with a serial killer,” he informs Chanyeol briskly. “If you survive, take me out for a celebratory meal.”  
  
“You are so lucky I can’t run right now,” Chanyeol deadpans, even as he gives it a try anyway and has to wildly stab his poles into the snow to keep from falling again. “If Joonmyun-hyung were here you would be nicer,” he grumbles.  
  
“I hope you don’t lie like that to his face.” Baekhyun shakes his head. “Don’t get his hopes up. Well,” he bows to Kris. “Enjoy.”  
  
“I’ll send you a few fingers as keepsakes,” Kris promises.  
  
Baekhyun salutes, and stretches up to pull at a tuft of Zitao’s hair before taking his arm and tugging him away. Chanyeol watches them disappear down the run, and looks sheepishly at Kris. “Sorry to impose.”  
  
Kris shakes his head. “Are you ready?”  
  
In front of them the ground drops off steeply. If Chanyeol is honest with himself, his last fall had been caused more by nervous anticipation than adverse slope conditions—the next stretch of the trail is going to happen very fast, and he can only hope to stay on his feet.  
  
Kris is looking at him. “You look like you’re thinking of bombing it.”  
  
“I can’t figure out how to slow down,” Chanyeol admits. “I tried doing the snowplow, like the instructors said,” he demonstrates, pointing the tips of his skis together to form a wedge, “but it doesn’t work. And I keep almost hitting the fence when I try skiing from side to side.”  
  
“Hmm,” Kris says. “Do you play basketball?”  
  
“Yeah.” Chanyeol blinks. “I mean, I’m normally pretty good at sports.”  
  
“I could tell,” Kris says. He pushes himself closer until he’s standing a little behind Chanyeol on his right side. “You’re trying to control this too much. Tension is great on court, because you’re ready to sprint in any direction, but if you’re that stiff here the smallest bump is going to knock you over. Right here.” he puts his gloved hand on Chanyeol’s leg, right above the knee, and squeezes lightly. It’s an impersonal touch, completely professional: Kris doesn’t linger, and he isn’t touching Chanyeol anywhere else. There’s a whole half foot of space between their bodies. He cups his other hand around the back of Chanyeol’s thigh. “You’re still tight. You need to loosen up, but stay firm. Have you ever surfed? It’s like that, you have to lean in and ride it.”  
  
Through the layers of ski pants and gloves Chanyeol can’t feel the heat of Kris’s hands at all; they're standing in the shadow of the mountain, and the parts of his body that aren't freezing are numb. It’s just the weight of them, the pressure of his fingertips. Kris’s hands are large enough to overlap where they circle his thigh. Chanyeol looks down, at Kris's long nose pink with cold, at the white puffs that escape between his lips as he speaks, and he's seized with the funny urge to touch the bit of reddened earlobe peeking out from under Kris's hat.  
  
“Got it?” Kris is expectant, his mouth open in a half-smile that shows too much gum. Somehow Chanyeol’s body works up enough blood circulation to warm his cheeks, and he thanks god his face is already ruddy from the cold.  
  
“I think so,” he says. Kris gestures for him to go first.  
  
Chanyeol takes a deep breath. He quickly runs through everything he just heard, steels himself, and shoves off with his poles before he can have any second thoughts. Immediately his knees and elbows want to lock up, but he forces himself to stay limber even as his heart pounds. He leans into a shaky glide to the left, and then a wide sweep to the right before going left again. It’s completely uneven, the path his skis draw in the snow is nothing like the neat undulations of his friends, but he’s staying upright and mostly managing to control his speed. His focus is tight on the dips of the ground before him, his body sinking to absorb each shock and then rising again. He narrows his eyes against the wind that whips his hair back and freezes the tips of his ears.  
  
It’s not a long hill, and before he knows it he’s coasting on a low incline again.  
  
“Good job,” Kris shouts from behind. Chanyeol grins.  
  
They make it down the rest of the mountain with little incident, Kris nudging and adjusting his technique here and there. Chanyeol falls three more times; the third time he yanks Kris down when he’s offered a helping hand, and manages to get a handful of snow in Kris’s face before Kris pins him and stuffs two fistfuls down the back of his coat.  
  
Afterwards, when the both of them are panting and huffing white clouds in each other’s faces, Kris dusts off his cream hat and tugs it firmly down over Chanyeol’s ears. “Those things are going to get frostbite if you don't cover up,” he laughs, raking a hand through his own hair, which is sticking up every which way.  
  
Chanyeol puffs his cheeks out unhappily, but helps Kris flatten his bangs anyway.  
  
Sehun and Lu Han’s group is nowhere to be seen when they arrive at the foot of Rainbow Paradise, but they join up with the rest and get in line for the next slope. Baekhyun arches a brow when he sees Chanyeol with Kris’s hat, but keeps his mouth shut.  
  
Chanyeol beats Jongdae down the second trail. He’s a fast learner and naturally athletic, and now that he’s finally gotten the hang of it his competitive side is kicking into serious gear. By the time they run Rainbow Paradise again, over two hours later, he’s pulling even with Kyungsoo. He has much less finesse than the others and still wipes out twice as often, but his sheer speed makes up for it.  
  
“I think I’m supposed to thank you for fixing Chanyeol,” Baekhyun complains when they break for lunch. “But instead I just hate you.”  
  
“Don’t hate the player,” Kris says smoothly. “Hate the game.”  
  
“You know, you're a lot less cool than you look,” Jongdae comments.  
  
  
  
  
They part ways after dinner. Chanyeol apologizes again for being late in the morning, and Yixing slyly assures him that it’s fine, Kris usually never gets out of bed before noon anyway. They agree to meet the next afternoon instead, but Lu Han says he’ll be up right when the slopes open in case anyone wants to join him.  
  
The six of them trudge to their hostel, sleepy-eyed and yawning, though all of them have enough energy to tease Sehun the whole way back, elbowing and winking at him until he pulls his beanie over his face and doubles over with embarrassed giggles. He’s only saved when the elevator arrives at their floor and everyone races to snag one of the showerheads in the communal shower room.  
  
Baekhyun finishes washing up first, and Chanyeol is quick to follow, changing into an oversized tee and clean boxers before he heads back to their room. When he enters Baekhyun is already curled on the bottom bed of their shared bunk, flipping through a paperback. Chanyeol plucks Kris’s hat from the bedpost and climbs in next to Baekhyun. He’s pretty much made up his mind, but he isn’t going to do anything without checking in first.  
  
“Get off, you oaf,” Baekhyun says absently, turning a page.  
  
Chanyeol deliberately leans his forearm on Baekhyun’s sprawled calf, and twirls the hat with his other hand. “So, hey,” he begins casually.  
  
Baekhyun pauses with one thumb in his book. “What’s up?”  
  
“I was uh, thinking of asking Kris to dinner tomorrow. What do you think?” Chanyeol watches Baekhyun carefully.  
  
Baekhyun puts on a thoughtful expression, and then shrugs. “I think that sounds great.”  
  
“Really?” Chanyeol says, leaning his full weight forward. “I know you think he’s totally mouth-watering,” he teases lightly.  
  
“Augh, you dick.” Baekhyun kicks Chanyeol’s arm off and pulls his legs in protectively. “Kris is really good-looking,” he agrees. “But so are all of his friends. You know, you guys seem pretty compatible, I'd say go for it.”  
  
“I mean, I know you think he's cute so I wanted to run it by you, in case,” Chanyeol presses, plucking at the hat's pom-pom. “I think he's pretty attractive, for sure, but it's nothing serious. I wanted to check in case you were thinking of doing the same kind of thing. So we don't get our wires crossed." He wiggles his fingers in the air, tracing a tangled mess of imaginary squiggles.  
  
“If I were genuinely interested in every hot guy I met... yeah, I'll pass." Baekhyun grins. "But thanks."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"All right then dude." Chanyeol bumps his fist against Baekhyun's. "Wish me luck."  
  
"Don't worry, he likes you."  
  
"Oh?" Chanyeol says. He's surmised something along the same lines himself, noted the unnecessarily playful gestures and faint interest in Kris's eyes because he's not blind and he has a pretty healthy grasp on his ego, but it's reassuring to have someone else say it all the same. He bats his eyes. "You think?"  
  
Baekhyun hits him with his book. "Ew, _I'm_ the one who can pull off coy."  
  
"Oh god please don't have another aegyo competition," Jongdae pleads, having entered without either of them noticing. "I'll save you the trouble and let you know neither of you can pull it off."  
  
"Hey, don't be jealous we didn't invite you." Chanyeol tosses Kris's hat in the air and catches it, pointing his index finger at Jongdae.  
  
"WHO PUT THEIR WET TOWEL ON MY PILLOW," Jongin interrupts them, having zeroed in on his bed the second he stepped through the door. He snatches up the offending item and waves it around. Baekhyun immediately dives into his mattress and tugs his blanket up around his ears, pretending to sleep.  
  
"Not me," Jongdae says when Jongin rounds on him, catching Chanyeol's eye over Jongin's shoulder and stifling a knowing grin. "Baekhyun's trying to sleep, can you keep it down?" Jongin growls loudly in reply, and Jongdae starts scolding him with affected annoyance, but both are drowned out by Chanyeol's laughter.  
  
"Hey," Baekhyun whispers amidst the din, tugging on Chanyeol's pinky and opening one eye to check that Jongin is still preoccupied with letting himself be soothed by Kyungsoo. "Listen, don't wear a scarf tomorrow. I bet you he'll give you his."  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol really wishes he’d worn a scarf.  
  
He tugs uselessly at the zip of his coat even though it’s already pulled up all the way, and clutches the collar tighter around his chin. It wasn’t that he had taken Baekhyun’s advice and chosen to forgo one in hopes of catching Kris’s sympathy again—he’d thought about it, his fingers had hovered indecisively over his scarf for about five seconds that morning, but ultimately Chanyeol had decided against the ploy. Not because he’s above playing games (between the two of them, Chanyeol is quicker to take advantage of a situation), but because he doesn’t see the point of this one. It would be sweet if Kris did offer his scarf, but one of them would still end up with a bare neck, and to be practical about it, physical discomfort isn’t worth the five seconds of satisfaction.  
  
So of course, when Chanyeol had been called away to help look for the retainer Sehun left behind, he’d promptly neglected to actually take his scarf with him.  
  
At least he still has Kris’s hat, he thinks as he stamps his skis and huffs into his cupped hands. Kris had refused when he tried giving it back. He casts a sidelong glance at Baekhyun, who is wrapped up to his nose in wool. “What was it you were saying again?”  
  
“It’s not going to happen right away, give it two or three more hills. Besides, I didn’t tell you to _actually_ forget your scarf.” Baekhyun rolls his eyes, as if to imply that Chanyeol would be less cold if he had left his scarf behind _deliberately_. He waves at the chairlift carrying Yixing, Zitao, and Kris just as it enters the station. The three have been running the slopes off-piste all morning, leaving Chanyeol and Baekhyun to sweep the marked trails by themselves.  
  
“You should come with us on this one,” Yixing says when he draws close. “It’s not that much harder and the snow’s excellent.”  
  
“Yeah?” Baekhyun asks, glancing at Chanyeol, who shrugs back.  
  
“It’s the same slope,” Kris says. “Only with trees.”  
  
“Well, if you think I can handle it,” Chanyeol replies. “I’ll trust you, hyung.”  
  
“You know me,” Kris drawls, and flicks his hair back. “I always take responsibility.”  
  
Baekhyun rolls his eyes, and loops arms with both Yixing and Zitao. “Okay guys, my life’s in your hands,” he says loudly, and tries to pull them away. Yixing only goes after a snort and a skeptical, “Since _when?_ ” to Kris.  
  
Kris watches them disappear into the treeline. “I hate Yixing,” he says conversationally.  
  
Chanyeol chews the inside of his cheek for a moment, and then takes Kris by the elbow. Kris looks down at him, a little startled, and his face is closer than expected. He’s really not that much taller. Around them the station bustles, lifts gliding by and unloading groups of people at regular intervals. Chanyeol licks his mouth, and the invitation he so carefully prepared is dying in his throat. He doesn’t really consider himself shy about anything—particularly not vacation flings—always figuring that nothing isn’t worth a try, and he knows Baekhyun left them alone for a reason. It doesn’t mean he can’t get nervous, especially when they’re in a crowd and all he can smell is Kris’s cologne. “I don’t know, I think he’s funny,” he finally says, deciding the timing isn’t right. “Let’s go.”  
  
Fifteen minutes and three close calls later, Chanyeol slumps against the last tree he’d narrowly avoided and groans. “I hate Yixing.”  
  
“What did I tell you,” Kris says, squatting next to him with one arm braced on the trunk.  
  
“I hate you too,” Chanyeol informs him. “You told me this was easy.”  
  
“I said there were trees.”  
  
“What happened to taking responsibility?” Chanyeol demands. He punches Kris in the arm and secretly hopes it’ll topple him over, but no such luck. Kris just laughs and tosses a handful of snow at him, half of which hits the back of his exposed neck.  
  
“Asshole!” Chanyeol yelps, and lurches up. “Wow, I don’t even _want_ to have dinner with you,” he mutters under his breath, and then immediately clamps his mouth shut. He digs his teeth into his lower lip, taking a second or two to gnaw at it, before he swivels around to where Kris is still squatting unperturbed.  
  
“Sup.” Kris lifts his free hand in a wave.  
  
“Uh,” Chanyeol says. “Do you want to have dinner with me.”  
  
“Isn’t that... the plan,” Kris says slowly.  
  
“No I mean like,” Chanyeol flails, and coughs. “Alone.”  
  
“Stop trying to distract me with those jazz hands,” Kris says, but a smug curl is starting to pull at his lips. “Do I want to have dinner with you... _alone?_ ”  
  
Chanyeol drops his arms and frowns, but on the inside his hesitance is melting away, replaced by the first fizzy bubbles of excitement. He can tell he’s already in the clear, that it’s unlikely this conversation will end unpleasantly. “That was going to be my offer,” he sniffs. “But I don’t want to anymore.”  
  
“Hey, hey how can you do that?” Kris stands up. “You can’t take back something you didn’t even give me.”  
  
“Well, do you want to have dinner with me, _alone?_ ”  
  
“Yeah,” Kris answers almost before he finishes speaking, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, and Chanyeol falters.  
  
“I’m flattered, hyung,” he says in return, recovering with a beatific smile. “And now I’m taking it back.”  
  
“ _What_.”  
  
“Maybe if you weren’t such a snow-flinging dick,” Chanyeol shoots over his shoulder, already sliding down the next dip.  
  
Kris catches up to him in under five seconds. “Why are you such a baby,” he huffs. “What if I ask you?”  
  
“It’s still a no,” Chanyeol sings, and speeds up. To his chagrin, Kris easily keeps pace.  
  
“What if I beat you down this hill.”  
  
Chanyeol snorts. “I don’t think that’s really a ‘what if’, hyung.”  
  
“Giving up before you even try?”  
  
Chanyeol’s head snaps around, and he stares Kris in the eye.  
  
Kris holds his gaze steady, eyebrow cocked and mouth in a cool smirk.  
  
Chanyeol’s fists tighten around his poles, and he shakes his head, half-smiling. He knows he’s playing straight into the taunt, that it’s plain as day he has no chance of actually winning. It’s a cheap shot, but an effective one.  
  
It’s the kind of challenge that makes his whole spine itch, and Kris knows it.  
  
“You’re on.”  
  
Not like he really wants to win, anyway.  
  
  
  
  
“This is so _romantic_ ,” Chanyeol coos.  
  
Next to him, Kris chokes on his hot chocolate.  
  
“No, man,” Chanyeol persists. “I’m serious. I feel like. Like my first love is calling me once more.” He curls the fingers of his free hand into quotation marks, and hides his smile behind his paper cup.  
  
“Shut up,” Kris manages to say between clearing his throat and dabbing at his chin with a napkin. “And I’ve never even seen Winter Sonata, so you can stop quoting at me. This was Zitao’s idea. Apparently it’s a crime to have a date in Yongpyong and not go to Dragon Peak.”  
  
“He’s right.” Chanyeol gestures to the cardboard cutouts of drama characters standing a few feet away, captioned with a plaque explaining exactly which scene in ‘Winter Sonata’ was filmed at that particular spot. “The romance of consumerism. I’d be 20 percent less attracted to you if we weren’t here right now.”  
  
“Zitao is going to kick your ass when he hears this,” Kris threatens. “And really, 20 percent?”  
  
Chanyeol just takes another gulp of his drink. Truthfully this is one of the best dates he’s ever been on, and all they did was dinner and drinks. The gondola ride up Mt. Balwang at twilight is enchanting, a full seventeen minutes of almost silence with Chanyeol busy plastering his face to the windows. The food was better than expected, the company even more so, and despite the drama advertisements plastered everywhere Dragon Peak is beautiful.  
  
“It’s pretty though, right,” Kris interrupts his thoughts, fingers softly touching Chanyeol’s elbow. “You can’t see the stars too clearly but the lights below are nice.”  
  
Chanyeol takes Kris’s hand in his instead, and pulls him to the edge of the lookout. The landscape sweeps below them, as far as the eye can see on all sides, a pristine white canvas crowded with tiny dark trees like dropped feathers. Yongpyong was built with an eye for design, and all the resort buildings are pleasing to look at: smooth white brick and long wooden beams lit up by warm yellow lights, clustered like miniature beehives from their vantage point. The night skiers zip across the snow and between buildings like ants.  
  
“It’s gorgeous.” Chanyeol heaves a breath to see it condense, and is rewarded by the tiny smile on Kris’s face. He inhales deeply through his nose, but this high the air doesn’t smell like anything, not even the cold.  
  
“I’ve never actually been here before,” Kris admits. “I’m glad it lives up to the hype.”  
  
Chanyeol looks at him curiously. “I thought you come here every year?”  
  
“Only to ski. I know all the runs by heart.”  
  
“You guys sure love skiing huh.” Chanyeol stretches his arms over the railing. “It’s fun. You know, I never got to see if you’re better than Lu Han. Hey, do you think he’s been up here with Sehun?”  
  
“Lu Han’s scared of heights, so I doubt it.” Kris drains his cup and tosses it in a nearby waste basket.  
  
Chanyeol crinkles his nose. “He takes the chairlifts every day.”  
  
“Yeah,” Kris snorts, placing his elbows on the railing. “And he’s the fastest out of all of us because he can’t wait to get back down.” The cast of the lamppost slides over his face, and at this angle he’s almost perfectly illuminated. The flickering light licks up his long jaw, the slope of it ridiculously steep—and Chanyeol means that in the most straightforward way; it’s nearly bizarre. If Kris’s jawline were a ski trail, Chanyeol would probably die on it.  
  
He bites his tongue at the thought, shuffling over until their shoulders are pressed together. Chanyeol puts one hand on that death trap of a jaw, and turns Kris’s face towards him. “Hey,” is all the warning he gives before he’s leaning in, lips clumsily finding Kris’s. It’s almost like kissing a girl at first—Kris’s lips are smooth and soft and Chanyeol is suddenly aware of how chapped his own are. Then Kris pulls him in by the waist, his other hand going up to cup Chanyeol’s neck, and he’s more commanding than any girl Chanyeol has ever made out with, controlling the angle of the kiss, the slight roughness of his jaw a scratching reminder against Chanyeol’s skin. Chanyeol opens his mouth, just a little, and feels Kris reciprocate beneath him. They kiss like that for a while, open-mouthed but without tongue, until Kris pulls back.  
  
“You’re really forward,” he murmurs, and lightly chucks Chanyeol under the chin.  
  
“It’s called initiative,” Chanyeol corrects him. “Someone has to wear the pants.”  
  
“Uh, I definitely made the first move on you,” Kris says.  
  
“I asked you out!”  
  
“You asked me out in such a pantless, passive way that I ended up having to ask _you_ out to get you to ask me out,” Kris scoffs. “Anyway I was talking about before that. Or did you really think I needed to grope your thigh?”  
  
“What? No—that wasn’t groping!” Chanyeol gasps. “That was—very instructive, and—”  
  
“No, it was groping,” Kris says. He shifts the hand still clasping Chanyeol’s neck, and then suddenly frowns. “Where’s your scarf?”  
  
Chanyeol laughs until he has to put his head between his knees. Kris ends up crouching next to him and yanking at Chanyeol’s hair to pull his face up, trying to wrap his own scarf around Chanyeol’s neck.  
  
“Speaking of being forward,” Kris says mid-struggle. “Do you want to come back to my place?”  
  
Chanyeol’s mouth drops open mid-laugh, and Kris cracks up. Despite his surprise Chanyeol feels pleased, like he always does each time he manages to turn Kris’s eyes into little crescents.  
  
“Don’t think too much,” Kris continues, still chuckling. “Just for drinks and conversation, and you can take my bed after, there’s a couch in the suite.”  
  
It’s not something he does frequently, Kris’s reassurances aside, but Chanyeol accepts the invitation. It turns out Kris is staying at Alpensia, which is another ski resort five minutes away.  
  
“It’s a complicated membership thing,” he says when Chanyeol asks. “We usually stay at Alpensia because of perks, but Yongpyong has better slopes.”  
  
All the lights are off in the suite when they let themselves in, but what decor Chanyeol can make out in the dim looks very fancy. “Nice place,” he says, toeing off his boots. Kris hangs both their coats in the closet, then disappears into the kitchen. Chanyeol follows him, flicking on the lights. Fresh vases of cut flowers decorate the counters.  
  
“Thanks,” Kris says with his head in the fridge. “Lu Han and Yixing won’t be back till late, I’m not sure about Zitao.” He straightens, bottle of wine in hand, and closes the fridge with his foot while snagging a couple of wine glasses from a cabinet. He’s tugging open the collar of his sweater when Chanyeol closes in on him, sliding his hands around Kris’s ribcage.  
  
“Forget the couch.” Chanyeol kisses the underside of his jaw, and thinks it’s nice not having to bend over all the time.  
  
“Really forward,” Kris manages, more preoccupied with chasing Chanyeol’s mouth.  
  
“I’m a healthy young man,” Chanyeol says, hooking his thumbs in Kris’s belt loops. “And you’re the hottest hookup I’ve ever had.”  
  
  
  
  
He wakes up to the glow of midday sun behind his eyelids and the murmur of voices. Chanyeol cracks his eyes open, turning away from the bright-lit windows and slowly sitting up with a yawn. The clock on the table reads eleven o’clock. He can hear people moving around in the rooms next door.  
  
Next to him, Kris doesn’t stir. He’s sprawled on his front, face half-buried in the pillow and sheets pooled around his waist. Chanyeol rolls onto his side, and admires the sunlight limning Kris’s shoulder blades and the bumps of his spine. He’s skimming his fingers through the sleep-mussed golden hair when the door creaks open and Yixing sticks his head in, Lu Han popping up behind him.  
  
“Good morning,” Lu Han chimes. Yixing waves.  
  
Chanyeol immediately snatches his hand back and pulls the sheets up to his neck. “Oh, uh, good morning hyung.”  
  
Lu Han beams at him. “Yixing and I are going now. You can call room service for breakfast. Let Kris wake up on his own, but you don’t have to wait around for him. See you later!” He and Yixing sweep the room with identical sly smiles, and Chanyeol tries to remember if he left his underwear on the floor. Then they’re gone as quick as they came, Yixing waving once more before shutting the door with a click.  
  
“Thanks,” Chanyeol calls weakly. He glances down, and wow, Kris really shows no signs of consciousness. He reaches over and ghosts his thumb over the pale bruise by the hollow of Kris’s throat, left there by his own mouth, and then throws back the blankets and gets off the bed.  
  
He washes up and dresses before padding to the living room, heading straight for the telephone and the room service menu next to it.  
  
By the time Kris shuffles out, Chanyeol has finished breakfast and is halfway through the fruit platter, flicking through variety reruns on the television.  
  
“Are you wearing my shirt?” Kris yawns, voice still hoarse from sleep. He’s wearing only a pair of briefs, rubbing his palm in lazy circles over his bare stomach.  
  
“I just grabbed it from the closet.” Chanyeol takes advantage of the moment, stretching up and popping a strawberry in Kris’s open mouth. “Do you mind?”  
  
“I’ll let you slide this time,” Kris mumbles around the fruit, and swallows. “I’m going to get ready, let’s leave at one-thirty.”  
  
“Why so late?” Chanyeol chooses a piece of pineapple for himself.  
  
Kris is already disappearing down the hall. “I said I need to get ready.”  
  
“You need an _hour and a half?_ ”  
  
The sound of the shower turning on is his only reply, and Chanyeol sighs. He wipes his fingers on a napkin and drums his thighs, switching the television channel a few more times before abruptly standing and walking back to the bedroom. Maybe he can speed up the process if he lays out Kris’s clothes, or something.  
  
Kris finds him twenty minutes later, sitting in front of the vanity and poring over half a dozen open bottles.  
  
“What are you doing?” he demands, striding over with one hand outstretched, the other clutching the towel around his waist. “Those aren’t supposed to have prolonged exposure to oxygen.”  
  
Chanyeol jumps guiltily, shrinking back a little as Kris caps each bottle and moves them away from him. “What are they? I can’t read the labels.”  
  
“Skincare products,” Kris replies, nudging Chanyeol off the stool so he can sit. Chanyeol drags the desk chair over and plops himself down annoyingly close. “The labels are in French.” He pushes his hair back with a thin headband and pats his face dry with small cloth. Next, he snaps open a bottle of clear liquid and dampens a cotton ball, which he then quickly wipes across his face. Chanyeol is completely fascinated.  
  
Kris is just finished rubbing a white cream all over his face and neck and is unscrewing a container of translucent gel when Chanyeol says, a little horrified, “Wait, is this all yours?”  
  
Kris doesn’t even look at him as he applies the product. “Of course.”  
  
“What even is that?” Chanyeol points to the gel Kris is now exchanging for a bottle with a little pump. Kris squirts a little on his fingertips and starts dabbing at seemingly random spots on his face.  
  
“Retexturizing gel,” he says, absently.  
  
“What about the one you’re using now?”  
  
“Lightening creme for hyperpigmentation.”  
  
“And this one?”  
  
“Resurfacing lotion.”  
  
“You,” Chanyeol marvels slowly, his eyes wide, “are _so fucking high maintenance_.”  
  
Kris throws a cotton ball at him. “It’s called preventative diligence, you asshole.”  
  
“How the fuck do you even make it out of the house every day? What’s that—hey, let me do this one.” Chanyeol wrestles the bottle away from Kris and squeezes it on to his own fingers. “Where does this go?”  
  
“Under my eyes, along my jaw, and around my mouth,” Kris says, sounding resigned. He closes his eyes and lets Chanyeol spread the cool lotion over his skin. Chanyeol bites down on his lower lip in concentration, but when he sees Kris, face passively upturned with twin blots of cream under each eye, he can’t stifle the sudden laughter erupting from his throat and accidentally spits in Kris’s face.  
  
“Fuck,” Kris shouts, rearing back and groping for his face cloth. “Oh my god.”  
  
Chanyeol apologizes between uncontrollable giggles, grabbing the cloth first and trying to simultaneously clean Kris off and blend in the lotion left smudged on his face. There’s still some on his fingers too and he’s trying not to smear it on the face cloth but Kris, eyes still squeezed shut, isn’t cooperating, grappling with him and holding him by the wrists to fend him off.  
  
“Get off, can you just argh—stop—”  
  
“No, c’mon—look, I’m almost done, there’s just a little bit—no, _you_ stop—”  
  
It’s not that he wants to always resort to violence, Chanyeol thinks regretfully as he braces one foot against Kris’s thigh. It’s just that people don’t listen.  
  
He kicks, hard, and Kris falls off the stool. Chanyeol immediately clambers over it and straddles him, pinning him back with one forearm against his throat. He’s just able to wipe his fingers clean on Kris’s cheeks before Kris wraps his legs around Chanyeol’s waist and rolls them over, reversing their positions.  
  
“You fucker,” Kris pants, swiping a hand across his face. “You are so much trouble.”  
  
Chanyeol just smiles toothily at him, and casually palms Kris’s bare hips. The towel is long gone. “I said I was sorry, princess.”  
  
Before Kris can retort, Chanyeol pulls him down by the neck and kisses him, ignoring the way it smears some lotion onto his own cheek. Kris is burying his hands in Chanyeol’s hair, tugging probably a little bit harder than necessary, and Chanyeol can’t keep from grinning into the kiss. He teasingly bites at Kris’s bottom lip, and pulls back enough to say, “Give me your number.”  
  
Kris opens his eyes and looks at him, their foreheads still pressed together. Chanyeol kisses him again, short and impulsive. “What?”  
  
“We leave on Sunday. Can I call you after that?”  
  
Kris slides his hands down to gently cup Chanyeol’s jaw, and the initial soft look on his face hardens into something more playful. “You’re asking after you insulted me and completely disrupted my health regime?”  
  
“I’ll treat you right from now on, I promise.” Chanyeol smirks.  
  
Kris snorts and climbs to his feet, completely naked and unabashed. Chanyeol props himself up on his elbows and thoroughly enjoys the view as Kris goes to his closet and starts rifling through the hangers. “Is that a yes?”  
  
Kris pulls an undershirt over his head. “Maybe next time.”  
  
“Come on, hyung,” Chanyeol coaxes.  
  
“Ehhh.” Kris puts on some underwear much to Chanyeol’s disappointment. “I think my manly ego is still smarting from being called ‘princess’.”  
  
“Pretty please,” Chanyeol calls, rolling onto his stomach and then over again. He pulls faces at the ceiling until a fully-dressed Kris looms into his line of sight.  
  
“I’ll think about it.” Kris is the one smirking now. “Maybe if you’re good. If you ski well and don’t hit too many trees.”  
  
Chanyeol allows Kris to help him up. “Shut up, I beat Kyungsoo five times yesterday. You better start watching your back.”  
  
“I’m not too worried.”  
  
“Just you wait,” Chanyeol grumbles. “I’ll beat you and—hey, you know what, hyung, I bet you your phone number. I beat you, you give up your contact info.”  
  
Kris levels a stare at him, looking surprised and like he just heard a very funny joke. “Really? You really want to make that bet?”  
  
“Fuck you,” Chanyeol says easily, and holds out his hand for Kris to shake. “Rainbow Paradise, for old time's sake. I win a race against you before I leave on Sunday, you tell me what I want to know.” He’s grinning, already feeling the tense prickles of excitement. Kris answers him with a lazier smile, all arrogance, and clasps his hand to seal the deal. Chanyeol’s improved substantially since those first two days, and each run only gets easier as his body learns and falls with ease into the rhythm of the hills. He jiggles his leg the whole elevator ride down from the suite and Kris keeps shooting him amused glances, but Chanyeol is too busy calculating the stakes in his head to care. If it’s just speed, he thinks the odds are tough but fair. Kris is without a doubt more skilled and experienced, but Chanyeol doesn’t often lose—at anything.  
  
Especially not when the prize is something he wants this badly.  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol splits up from Kris soon after they return to Yongpyong, declaring that he needs to practice in private. Kris lets him go, only shaking his head when Zitao asks what’s going on.  
  
He wheedles Kyungsoo into accompanying him on his first two runs but after that Kyungsoo grows tired of repeating the same trail and leaves Chanyeol to queue up alone. He doesn’t mind; he’d beat Kyungsoo both times anyway. The waiting lines are monstrous though, so he only manages to take the slope a handful of times more before it’s time for dinner.  
  
Chanyeol drops into the restaurant later than everyone else. It’s routine now to eat together. Sometimes they have to split into two groups, but today everyone has managed to crowd around one table. Kris is sitting in the middle, holding Baekhyun in a headlock with his left arm and Jongdae in another with his right.  
  
“Chanyeol!” Baekhyun stops pretending to struggle and slips out of Kris’s grip like quicksilver; Kris looks taken aback, and Chanyeol hides a laugh. Jongdae, on the other hand, really is stuck.  
  
Baekhyun guides him to an empty chair. “Someone didn’t come home last night,” he says under his breath, and Chanyeol knows he’s at once excited by the development and annoyed that he hasn’t been filled in on all the details already.  
  
“I told you to look after Sehun!” he teases, and receives a jab in the side for his efforts. Speaking of which, Chanyeol is pleased to note his seat is right between Baekhyun and Sehun. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey.” Sehun nods, and then resumes his conversation with Lu Han.  
  
“How was your afternoon?” Kris leans over Baekhyun. His tongue is held lightly between his teeth, and Chanyeol just wants to kiss the cocky look right off his face. He settles for calmly filling his plate from the center dishes instead.  
  
“Fantastic,” he says. “Yours?”  
  
“Spectacular,” Kris counters.  
  
“Kris-hyung finally gave Baekhyun and I those lessons he promised,” Jongdae jumps in. “I too have been given the wisdom to kick your ass.”  
  
“You wanna see about that,” Chanyeol says, pressing his index finger firmly down on the tip of Jongdae’s nose.  
  
“Shut up and eat, you bully.” Baekhyun smacks his arm away, and elbows everyone back into their own seats and out of his lap. He waits until Jongdae has successfully engaged Kris in a conversation before raising his eyebrows at Chanyeol.  
  
“I’ll tell you later,” Chanyeol mouths, and turns his back on Baekhyun’s incensed face to poke Sehun in the temple.  
  
“Ow!”  
  
“Dear Sehun,” he murmurs. “I need your assistance tomorrow.” Chanyeol ignores Lu Han, who looks slightly alarmed at the way he’s practically breathing down Sehun’s neck.  
  
“Gross, hyung!” Sehun complains, clapping a hand over his nape. “What do you want—”  
  
Chanyeol serenely clamps a hand around Sehun’s wrist, immobilizing it. “You’re going to teach me to ski tomorrow.”  
  
“Hyung—”  
  
“Bring Lu Han too,” Chanyeol concludes, and slaps him generously on the back. Kyungsoo glares at him from across the table when Sehun makes a choking noise.  
  
The rest of dinner is uneventful minus Baekhyun glaring daggers into the side of his head. Kris drags him into an alcove while the rest are paying the bill and Chanyeol gets his chance to kiss that smirk, though he declines when Kris lifts an inviting brow.  
  
“I need my rest,” he demurs, and Kris laughs and sends him off with a slap on the ass.  
  
Baekhyun rolls his eyes when he hears about the bet. “Say goodbye to the biggest penis you’ve ever touched, my hubristic friend. There’s no fucking way you can beat Kris.”  
  
“Hey, _my_ dick is the biggest penis I’ve ever touched,” Chanyeol defends. “And hey, shut up.”  
  
“I’ve seen your dick, so you shut up.” Baekhyun says dryly. “Are you sure you’re not just making sure you never get his number? Is he secretly really freaky?”  
  
Chanyeol bends over laughing, and it takes him a few moments to catch his breath again. He doesn't lift his head though, hiding his face behind his fringe. “No, he’s fine.”  
  
Baekhyun sighs and slings an arm around his waist. “Well then, Park Chanyeol, you know I’m always on your side.”  
  
  
  
  
The thing is, Chanyeol actually would really like to see Kris again—would really like to keep seeing him, maybe indefinitely. Kris is good-looking, he’s great in bed (the penis thing is true), and on the practical side, doesn’t seem to have any horrible vices and lives pretty comfortably. Best of all, he’s easy and interesting to be with. Chanyeol can think of a hundred different ways he hasn’t made fun of Kris yet, and he’s pretty sure he can’t squeeze them all into the next day and a half. And a hundred different ways—and places—he hasn’t kissed Kris yet. He wants to take Kris up on his hint and teach him the drums, play some ball and find out which of them is better, and watch Kris perform his skincare ritual uninterrupted from start to finish to see if he really does use all those products, because Chanyeol counted and there were like 35 things on that table, what the hell.  
  
He’s isn’t half the skier Kris is, he knows that, and he’s probably taking this too seriously. But people have a habit of underestimating him (Baekhyun would retort that Chanyeol has a habit of _over_ estimating himself) and what he’s capable of when he sets his sights on something.  
  
Chanyeol doesn’t have to be good, he just has to be fast.  
  
He tells as much to Sehun, who refuses to cooperate until he knows the reason for Chanyeol’s sudden interest. Lu Han bursts out laughing before he’s even finished.  
  
Lu Han’s very charming, Chanyeol thinks, but a little bit rude.  
  
Sehun is chewing his lip like he doesn’t know whether to smile or frown.  
  
“Kris took the bet?” Lu Han asks. His eyes are particularly dewy today.  
  
“Why wouldn’t he?” Chanyeol says, a little sulky.  
  
Lu Han looks vaguely rueful, as if he’s almost sorry for laughing. “He’s going to give you his number even when you lose, you know.”  
  
“ _If_ I lose. Which I won’t if you help me,” Chanyeol says firmly. “Aren’t you the fastest?” He knows Lu Han is probably right about Kris. The bet isn’t much more than a bit of tongue-in-cheek macho posturing from the both of them, but it’s the principle of winning that counts. There’s satisfaction in every victory, and Chanyeol always sees a challenge through no matter how stupid or frivolous. Besides, Kris can be such a smarmy dick.  
  
“Kris could teach you better, since you guys are built the same,” Lu Han mulls. “But I guess not this time, huh? Come on then.”  
  
They run Rainbow Paradise over and over again, until they’re on first-name basis with the chairlift operator which as Sehun puts it, is “so embarrassing.” They end up spending twenty minutes poring over the trail map together while the operator helpfully points out where to accelerate and where to just glide. By the time Chanyeol outruns Sehun for the first time, it’s late afternoon. He only does it by a few seconds, and mostly because Sehun got cut off by a family of four near the end, but it’s not like his race with Kris won’t have road hazards.  
  
Sehun eyes the little girl with the braces as he goes past, and abruptly covers his own mouth with a hand. “Crap,” he says. “I forgot my retainer.”  
  
Chanyeol’s wheezing, but he still manages to roll his eyes. “You know, at this rate you’re never going to get those teeth fixed.”  
  
“I think it’s endearing,” Lu Han says. Sehun blushes.  
  
Chanyeol figures rolling his eyes twice is probably impolite. “I’ll go get it,” he volunteers instead—he could use a break—and manages to escape before he actually sees anything vomit-inducing.  
  
He decides on the way back to the hostel that after he gets Sehun’s retainer, he’ll call for a real break, maybe curl up with a book in the last couple hours before dinner. Or find Kris. Every muscle in his body is limp, and his joints are starting to lock up again out of sheer weariness. He doesn’t want to be too sore the next day—their last day—when he actually races Kris. He’s not sure how much faster he can go anyway. The rest will depend on circumstance and external conditions, and he’s always been good at bending both to his favour. He’s not sure how fast Kris can go; Chanyeol has never seen him at full-speed.  
  
Chanyeol checks the washroom on their floor first, since usually Sehun forgets to put his retainer back in after brushing his teeth. Finding nothing, he fishes out his access card and goes to their room, sliding the door closed behind him. He rifles lightly through the blankets and pillowcase on Sehun’s bunk, and then spies his backpack in the corner. Sehun usually brings it out with him, but he probably hadn’t expected to do anything but help Chanyeol today.  
  
Chanyeol squats down and starts unzipping the pockets, searching through them for Sehun’s retainer case. The bag is filled with crumpled papers and magazines and candy wrappers, and Chanyeol makes the expression he imagines Kyungsoo would wear if he could see this. He’s going to have to take everything out to find anything in this mess.  
  
“Oh Sehun,” he mutters darkly, and upends the bag.  
  
The magazines spill out in a slippery pile, and one ends up sliding over his left foot. Chanyeol glances down, and double takes.  
  
Lu Han’s on the cover.  
  
There’s no mistaking that face. He’s in full ski gear, goggles pushed up his forehead like the cameraman had paused him halfway down the run. His smile is dazzling.  
  
Little wonder: he’s clutching a gold medal in his right hand.  
  
“You’re fucking kidding me,” Chanyeol breathes.  
  
_THE WINTER OLYMPICS: Gold Rush for the East_ , the tagline reads, and Chanyeol picks it up, dropping out of his squat to sit with his legs crossed. It’s an old issue of Sports Illustrated. He flips it open—the right article is dog-eared and crinkled, like Sehun has paged to it countless times.  
  
_China’s Lu Han wins gold in men’s downhill_.  
  
There are a few more pictures of Lu Han by himself, but in the rest he’s with his ski team. Chanyeol turns each page gingerly, and somehow he doesn’t at all feel surprised when he recognizes Yixing ( _ZHANG YIXING: Men’s slalom gold medalist_ ) or Zitao ( _Youngest alpine ski gold medalist_ ).  
  
Or Kris.  
  
He fingers the page of Kris’s feature. _Kris Wu breaks record in men’s Super G_.  
  
Lu Han had been so sure he would lose.  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol thinks it’s genuinely hilarious. It’s probably the closest his life will ever come to being a cheesy romcom—fuck ‘Winter Sonata’, _this_ is a hit drama plot. He had laughed after reading the full magazine article, alone in their hostel room, but stupidly enough, he still can't get rid of the icy feeling that had froze all his busy plans for the race and has now settled low in the pit of his stomach.  
  
The only thing is, Chanyeol really had taken their bet seriously. He always does, and he thought Kris had been meeting him halfway—cavalierly perhaps, but as willing as he to play out the game in earnest, neither of them truly able to predict the outcome.  
  
He hadn't given much thought to losing, but it’s different now. Chanyeol's confident, and competitive, but he's not stupid. Neither is Kris. Part of winning is knowing when you’ll lose, and stepping down before you can. He hadn’t known. But Kris had always been aware of the full stakes, could see the extent of his determination and had always known Chanyeol would lose.  
  
It’s funny. It’s mostly funny, Chanyeol can easily admit. Kris really is the hottest hookup Chanyeol has ever landed. _An Olympic gold medalist_. He almost wishes either Baekhyun or Jongdae hadn’t come on this trip—he doubts anyone will ever bring back a vacation story as good as this one. He supposes he’ll settle for wowing Minseok-hyung, and anyway, he can still enjoy the looks on Baekhyun’s and Jongdae’s faces when he breaks the news.  
  
Chanyeol just can’t shake the feeling of disconcertment, the faint insecurity that comes with knowing you are the butt of a joke.  
  
  
  
  
He stays in the hostel room until dinner time. He goes through and reads every single magazine in Sehun’s bag: most of them have articles on the ski team, and most of them feature Lu Han. Sehun must have realized who they were right from the beginning, that time when Baekhyun knocked Kris over. He’s probably wondering now why Chanyeol never came back with his retainer, but Chanyeol knows he won’t be able to keep from calling Sehun out if he sees him, and he wants to speak to Kris first, tell him first that the jig is up.  
  
The problem with sitting by himself surrounded by the proof of his dupe though, is that he can't keep his mind from wandering. By the time Chanyeol leaves the room, all of his uncertainties have crystallized into a single point of doubt. He’s not sure what Kris was planning to do in the end. Laugh, shake his hand and commend his effort? Bid him goodbye with a kiss, seal them as an enjoyable, week-long memory? Chanyeol’s no stranger to casual affairs. Summer romances, vacation flings: he understands being able to thoroughly enjoy a relationship while having no interest in maintaining it. It’s usually the way he prefers it.  
  
That isn't the case this time, and he had just assumed Kris was on the same wavelength. He had thought Kris liked him back just as much—he still thinks so, mostly, but he’s already been wrong once. It’s not impossible that he’s been reading Kris wrong this whole time. Chanyeol has the highest confidence in his own judgement, but the worst thing about relying on intuition is once you second-guess one thing, everything else seems suspect. Kris's default expression could give a person frostbite, but Chanyeol had interpreted green lights in every word and gesture. He had never actually asked Kris outright.  
  
Lu Han believes Kris would have followed through. That counts for something. Or it should: it’s not like Chanyeol knows the extent of their relationship. Maybe they’re just coworkers, maybe they’re confidants. He should have paid more attention.  
  
“Argh,” Chanyeol says out loud, grabbing his hair with one hand. The other couple in the elevator stares at him oddly, and he clears his throat. He’s nervous and it’s making him stupid. It doesn’t matter what Lu Han’s relationship with Kris is. The only thing he should be judging anything on is his own relationship with Kris, and if he looks back, he still thinks he’s right. Mostly.  
  
If Kris turns him down, he’ll live. He just can’t say he won’t be disappointed (and a little affronted).  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol's greeted by the same tableau as yesterday when he walks into the restaurant, only this time both Baekhyun and Kris are pulling gleefully at Jongdae’s cheeks. He passes Sehun first, and tosses the retainer case in his lap. After a moment of consideration, he follows it with the magazine. It slaps one of Sehun's forks off the table, and he looks up, a little stricken. Lu Han is biting his lip.  
  
Chanyeol’s not as angry as they probably think he is, but he keeps his face impassive because Sehun deserves to be scared a little. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
“I—it wasn’t any of my business, hyung.” Sehun licks his lips twice. “They have a right to privacy.”  
  
Chanyeol waits a second more, but Lu Han doesn’t offer anything. They've caught the attention of the others now. Kris has released a pitiful Jongdae to peer down the table, and Kyungsoo is reaching curiously for the magazine in Sehun’s lap.  
  
It’s annoying, because Sehun is _annoying_ , but he’s a decent kid. Chanyeol permits himself to cuff Sehun on the head, just once, and then it’s time to grab Kris and get them both out of there before Kyungsoo finishes gasping.  
  
“What’s going on,” Kris asks him, laughing as he’s dragged out of his seat and hustled to the front of the restaurant. Chanyeol barely manages to get them both out the door before they hear Baekhyun shout. He almost wants to turn around, just to see Baekhyun's face, but he reminds himself sternly that there are priorities at hand.  
  
It’s already dark out, so Chanyeol doesn't take them far, stopping just within the circle of light cast by the restaurant.  
  
“You’re an Olympic skier, is what,” Chanyeol hisses. “You asshole.”  
  
Kris’s mouth drops open, like it's the last thing he expected to hear. “Oh,” he says, and there’s still a smile on his face. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”  
  
“You asshole,” Chanyeol repeats, and shoves him. Kris just lets him, lets himself fall back with every push. “How could you not tell me?”  
  
“How was I going to bring that up? Oh, by the way, I’m famous, touch my dick," Kris deadpans, and rolls his eyes.  
  
“You’re not even famous,” Chanyeol says furiously. “No one even cares about skiing.”  
  
“Sehun sure—”  
  
“Sehun’s creepy stalker hard-on for Lu Han is not going to be a part of this conversation,” Chanyeol says, raising both hands as if to physically protect himself. Kris grabs one of them, and Chanyeol almost trips when he yanks and brings their bodies flush together. He probably should put up more of a fight, show Kris he won’t be appeased so easily, but Chanyeol is laughing because Kris is laughing, and he finds he doesn’t care.  
  
“You knew I was going to lose. You knew it.”  
  
“I told you.”  
  
“What were you going to do,” Chanyeol suddenly sobers, bracing his palms on Kris's chest and searching his face. “Once I lost.”  
  
“Console you with make-outs—” Kris begins, but Chanyeol wants a real answer, now.  
  
“Would you have given me your number?” he demands. There’s more of an edge to his voice than he’d like.  
  
Kris touches his cheek, and Chanyeol has never found his abrupt expression changes as startling as he does now.  
  
“No,” Kris says finally. “I wouldn't have.”  
  
Chanyeol’s hands uncurl from the front of Kris’s shirt, and he gently dislodges the arm around him. He actually feels more disappointed than he expected to, which in itself is a disappointment. “That’s too bad,” is all he says, his tone light. He’s about to break away, but Kris grabs him again by the waist.  
  
“I was,” Kris stops, looking a little bit embarrassed. “Ha, I was going to let you say goodbye, and contact you later myself. You told me where you go to school, and I figured I’d bully Lu Han into getting your schedule from Sehun and then turn up in a week. I have an apartment in Seoul.” He strokes Chanyeol's cheek again with the back of his fingers, like he's picking up a nervous habit.  
  
Chanyeol is actually speechless.  
  
“I thought it would be funny,” Kris says. “I was looking forward to seeing your reaction.”  
  
“That,” Chanyeol says slowly, still dumbfounded, “is the most dickish—that is such a dick move!” He finally finds the presence of mind to wrestle out of the embrace, feeling zero remorse when Kris stumbles a little. “Why do you always try to be suave? You know this stuff isn’t cool in real life, in real life it just gets you _punched_.”  
  
“Does it?” Kris has the barest hint of a smile.  
  
Chanyeol socks him in the arm as hard as he can. “It just did. You fucking asshole, and what were you going to do if I did win?”  
  
“It wouldn’t have happened.” Kris says, rubbing his bicep and wincing a little.  
  
“It could’ve!” Chanyeol says, but it sounds unconvincing even to him. Kris raises his eyebrows, and Chanyeol crosses his arms defensively. “You know what, I don’t even want your number anymore.”  
  
“Look, I’m sorry,” Kris says. “It was a bad idea. Lu Han was berating me about it last night. I got carried away by all your teasing and I wanted to see you riled up, I guess.”  
  
“You're seeing that all right,” Chanyeol huffs, petulant.  
  
“Please.” Kris cups his elbow, stepping into him again. “I’ll make it up to you.” His lips quirk, and despite himself Chanyeol is caught by the sweetness in his voice, by the affection radiating from every bit of his body, from the fingers unconsciously sliding up his arm for a more comfortable hold to the glimmer in his dark half-lidded eyes. Kris chuckles. “I’ll race you for it.”  
  
Chanyeol glares, but he can't suppress his smile. “Lu Han taught me pretty good, you know,” he warns. “Are you sure you want to bet on this?”  
  
The sheer delight in Kris’s answering laugh makes Chanyeol redden. “There's no way I'd let myself lose this one,” he promises.  
  
Chanyeol makes a mental note to stop getting into situations with Kris where he _wants_ to lose. It's not healthy for either of their egos.


End file.
